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Tuesday, January 13, 2015

BIO: Michelle
Griep’s been writing since she first discovered blank wall space and Crayolas. She
seeks to glorify God in all that she writes—except for that graffiti phase she
went through as a teenager.

She resides in the frozen tundra of Minnesota, where she teaches history and
writing classes for a local high school co-op. An Anglophile at heart, she runs
away to England
every chance she gets, under the guise of research. Really, though, she’s
eating excessive amounts of scones.

Welcome back,
Michelle. God has really been moving in your writing life. What do you see on
the horizon?

That’s the great thing about a great God—life is such an adventure
I don’t know what to expect next. But I do have a few ideas . . .

First off, I’ll be dipping my toes into the realm of
non-fiction with a writing craft book to encourage writers of all shapes and
sizes. Writer Off the Leash: Growing
in the Writing Craft will be available in February.

Secondly, I recently spent an entire month in England, which
filled me with a bajillion more story ideas. All historical. All romantic. All
incredible. I’d better get writing!

Tell us a little
about your family.

My crowded nest is currently gaining a bit more elbow room.
Three of my four birds have flown the coop, leaving behind my twenty-year-old
baby. But I’m not crying about it. My husband and I have adopted a
replacement—a bouncing, baby boxer. Ada Clare is our newest addition, a seven-month-old
fuzzy muzzle of love.

Has your writing
changed your reading habits? If so, how?

I’ve become a jaded reader. After studying the writing
craft, I have a lower tolerance for those who haven’t and put out lazy writing.
Now more than ever, I’m a lot more picky about what I read.

I know. I used to
read everything, no matter whether it was well-written or not. But now, if
there are too many glaring errors in the first few chapters, I stop. What are
you working on right now?

A sequel to Brentwood’s Ward, though honestly,
either could be a stand-alone. Here’s a blurb for Moore’s Maiden:

Officer ALEXANDER MOORE goes undercover as a rogue gambler
to expose a traitorous plot against the crown—and a master he is with his
disguise, for JOHANNA LANGLEY believes him to be quite the cad. But when
Johanna is swept up in the intrigue, Alex must choose between his mission and
reputation as a crack lawman or the woman he’s come to love.

What outside
interests do you have?

I love to cook. Well, I suppose eating ranks right up there
as well, but cooking and baking are a fun means to an end.

I’m also a closet season binge-watcher. I know, kind of sounds
like a felony, right? Not at all. My husband and I have a few favorite shows to
watch, but we wait until the entire season is out and watch it all in one
weekend. Next on the docket is Downton Abby’s season four.

James and I are
waiting for season five to be finished, so we can watch it that way. How do you
choose your settings for each book?

It’s usually a place I’ve either been or would love to visit
... and always in England,
whether the entire story takes place there or just part of it. I’m an
Anglophile at heart.

If you could spend an
evening with one historical person, who would it be and why?

Jesus, but I’m guessing that’s what everyone would say. I’d
pick Ruth—as in the book of the Bible. I think she was pretty spunky so
conversation might be interesting. Plus I’d like to hear first-hand her love
story with Boaz.

I’m that way about
Esther. What is the one thing you wish you had known before you started writing
novels?

That writing is a humbling road to travel. Actually,
sometimes it’s downright humiliating. Thick skin is mandatory and mine used to
be wafer thin.

What new lessons is
the Lord teaching you right now?

That no matter what He asks of me, as hard or devastating as
it may seem, it’s always for my good and His glory.

What are the three
best things you can tell other authors to do to be successful?

Be teachable.

Take the time to learn the craft, always striving to polish
your writing. Listen to what those who have been in the business longer have to
say. There’s no room for pride in your baggage on this trip.

Be patient.

It takes a long time to write a book. Don’t expect to crank
out three or four a year and have them be literarily fresh.

Laugh.

Don’t take things—especially yourself—so seriously.

Tell us about the
featured book.

BRENTWWOOD’S WARD is a blend of Sherlock Holmes and Dickens.
Here’s a blurb:

It takes a criminal to catch one, and Nicholas Brentwood is
just the man for the job. Reformed in more ways than one, the
rough-around-the-edges Brentwood is a member of the Bow Street Runners, London’s early
nineteenth-century fledgling police force. There’s none better than Brentwood at catching the felons who ravage the city’s
streets, and there’s nothing he loves more than seeing justice served.

Beautiful and beguiling, Miss Emily Payne is not the sort of
miscreant Brentwood usually hunts down. When
he is assigned as her bodyguard, he vows to protect her from her father’s
enemies, who will stop at nothing to carry out their mission fueled by greed
and revenge.

All her life, Emily has longed for love, but it remains
beyond her grasp. This season she’s determined to find a husband, which is
quite the undertaking with a hound-dog guardian like Brentwood
watching her every step. If he would just give her some measure of freedom, she
is sure she could win the heart of society’s most eligible bachelor.

Emily’s headstrong persistence challenges Nicholas in ways
he doesn’t expect but of one thing he’s certain—of all the cunning criminals
he’s dealt with in the past, this time he’s met his match.

Please give us the
first page of the book.

London, 1807

“You, sir, are a rogue!” Emily Payne scowled into the black
marble gaze fixed on hers, determined to win the deadlock of stares. Horrid
beast. Must he always triumph?

Without so much as a blink, the pug angled his head.
Sunlight from the front door’s transom window streamed over her shoulder,
highlighting each of his fuzzy wrinkles. The pup’s face squinched into a doggy
smile, coaxing a sigh from Emily. Who could remain cross with that scrunched up
muzzle?

“I should’ve named you Scamp instead of Alf, eh boy?” She
smiled, then laughed outright when he snuck in a quick kiss on her neck.

Beside her, Mary, her maid, joined in—until Mrs. Hunt, equal
parts housekeeper and sergeant-major, huffed into the entry hall. Emily glanced
at the matron over the pup’s head. If the Admiralty were smart, they’d press
her into service, and the royal navy would learn a new meaning for shipshape in
no time.

“Sorry, miss. The little beastie got clean away from me.”
Mrs. Hunt reached for the fugitive, the smell of linseed oil and hard work
wafting with the billow of her sleeve. “Hand him over, if you please. It won’t
happen again.”

“Hmm. Don’t be so
sure.” Emily nuzzled his furry head with the top of her chin, well aware he
ought not be encouraged, yet completely unable to stop herself.

“Which is more than I can say for the males of my own
species,” she mumbled into the pup’s fur. Alf nestled against her shoulder. If
only Charles Henley might become so attached, the empty void in her heart would
be filled at last. After a last snuggle, she held the pug out to Mrs. Hunt.

But Alf wriggled during the transfer. His back paw caught
the lace on her glove, tearing the sheer fabric. Frowning, she inspected the
damage. “Oh, bother. Mary, would you—”

“I shall.” Her maid turned, but a rap on the front door spun
her back around. “Right after I answer the—”

Emily shook her head. “I’ll do it. You see to the gloves.”

She opened the door to the height of fashion. By faith, the
only thing Reginald Sedgewick prized more than his garments was his looking
glass. “Uncle Reggie!” She smiled. “A bit early in the day for you, is it not?”

He nodded. Nothing more. Perhaps it was indeed too early for
his usual cheerful banter. “Is your father home?” His voice crackled at the
edges.

“I’ve not seen him, though that’s not unusual. Come in.” She
stepped aside, and the scent of bay rum entered with him—or was it? One more
sniff and her nose wrinkled. There was nothing bay about it. The man reeked of
rum.

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Hi Michelle and Lena! I have been anxiously awaiting Brentwood's Ward's release since I first read about it a few months ago. I love Michelle's writing and sure look forward to her new book!Kristen in OKkam110476 at gmail dot com